The Fire Under Me
by RebaDHaze
Summary: As you grow up, you realize that people change. They change without you, and you are alone. Even with all these successes, nothing hurts more than loneliness. You need her. Your fire. Delicious Candy!
1. Wasteful Beginnings

Things change as you grow older, wiser, more aware. Leaves fall, you close the book, you say goodbye. Goodbyes to high schools, goodbyes to friends, goodbyes to hometowns. You find yourself walking down a new path, one that is paved with college roommates and sweaty one night stands. Ah, life as a student is a sweet one, is it not? Sure, there's the head ache one gets when they find themselves under the pressure of ten textbooks and a week to finish five new essays, but there's that relief you find yourself breathing in once you have a break. There's new friends, new emotions, and new beginnings. Then, years later, you wake up and realize the cap and gown are gone and you've found yourself alone. _Where did all the keg stands go? Why am I in a huge office? How high up in the sky am I? Where did the time go?_

You're older now, and very much alone. On the way to the top, you forgot your friends, you left behind the free flowing beer and body shots to try and make something of yourself. You wanted to be rich. To be powerful. To mean something. But you fucked up. As you stare down at the jumbled mess of papers, binders, and reports on your large oak desk you realize that this isn't you. This isn't the Erik Cartman that was raised in a small town filled with rednecks. This is a lie. This is only comfortable for a small time; it doesn't replace the warmth a woman can give at night when nothing is working out right and the weight of the world is on your shoulders. This doesn't replace her. That's what you've been trying to do all these years, huh? Replace the one that wouldn't give you the time or day if you tried to be sincere to her, but give you every second of her spicy attention if you even thought of something hateful. Wendy Goddamned Testaburger.

You slowly lean back in your leather chair and look down and yourself; look how you've changed. You shed that weight that held you back all those years ago in gym classes. You left the red jacket and blue cap for designer suits and loose fitting leather jackets. For what? For style? For hype? To impress women that you could easily buy for half as much as this Gucci bullshit? What a waste. You slowly grab your smart phone and begin to look up . Would she even be a Testaburger anymore? She's probably married to Stan the Douche with beautiful children filling up her time. You scowl at the image of her hair being pulled out and tangled up in Fruit Loops. That's probably the case though, she is 29 already. Some lucky guy probably already scooped her up and is only giving her half his attention. What a waste.

Scrolling down the page, you find that there are 27 Testaburgers in the country. _That's not too bad,_ you think to yourself. Hmm, only five are W Testaburger. Even better. You could call all of them before your 11:30 comes in with the quarterly review.

**Ring. Ring. **

"Hello? Who's this?"

"Wendy Testaburger?"

"No, my name is William? Who's calling?"

"Never mind, sorry to bother you sir."

One down. **Ring. Ring. Ring.**

"Helllooo?"

"Wendy?"

"Nah, dude, I'm not Wendeh, I'm Wanda. But I got a dimebag with your name on it, man."

"Shut up, you fucking hippy."

Dial tone. **Ring. Ring. **

"Helloo? Who's speaking?"

"Is this Wendy?"

"Sorry, you must have the wrong number, this is Whitney."

"Goddamnit!"

Click.

Let the head ache begin.

**Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.**

"Hello."

"Please tell me this is Wendy _Goddamn_ Testaburger."

"Depending who's asking with that tone of voice, I might actually not be her."

"Wendeh?" Only a small gasp could be heard on the other line as you smirk to yourself. See, it wasn't that hard.

"Cartman? Is that _you_?"

You try to clear your throat but find that it's already drier than a desert. What are you getting so worked up about, it's only your high school crush.

"Hello? Are you still there? What did you want?"

"How's life?" Yeah, that was smooth.

"Look, I'm very busy right now. I have a client coming in at 11 and I can't waste my time with someone from over ten years ago wanting to make chit chat so if you have anything important to say, spill it."

There's the fire and spit that you've been missing in your life.

" I only wanted to see if you were available next week for coffee, ho. Don't need to get your panties in a bunch."

"I'm in New York, fatass. Don't waste my time."

Click.

New York huh? Well, it can't be too hard to find that hippy bitch with that last name. You hit the intercom button that connects to your secretary, Linda.

"Cancel all my appointments for the next two weeks. I'm taking a trip to New York for a while, so get Jeremy to pack my bags and tell him to make sure they're ready when I get home."

"Alright. Should I tell the team it's business or personal?"

"Oh, it's personal alright."

"Very good. You haven't taken a vacation in years, this'll be good for you."

**It better be.**


	2. Flights and Fights

**Disclaimer: In no way shape or form do I own any part of South Park, its characters, or any stories. Everything belongs to Trey Parker and Matt Stone.**

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You pace slowly in the First Class lounge, your permanent scowl greeting the carpeted floor. As you walk up and down the short corridor waiting for your delayed flight, you begin to question your flight plans. _What am I going to do once I get to New York? Ask strangers if they know a Wendy Testaburger? There's millions of people in the city, what are the chances of finding her? What's the point of finding her?_

Then you remember why she's so important to you. She's the only one who listened to you. Everyone else would only roll their eyes when you'd go off on a passionate rant, but she'd fight back. She'd make the fire under you burn hotter. She's the reason you wanted to prove to everyone that there's more to life than doing the bare minimum. She's the reason you're waiting for a stupid flight to a stupid state that has too many stupid people in it. Fucking bitch.

As you're getting ready to sit down in one of the dark purple seats you hear your flight number get called over the intercom. Finally. You grab your carry on luggage and go to stand in line, noticing that there's only maybe seven other people flying first class tonight. Relieved, and yet feeling another crush of loneliness; they're all couples. There's young couples and gay ones too. In fact, that one pair are both blondes. They look familiar too; who the hell are they? Wait, no, seriousleh?

"Kenny? Butters?" You call out rather loudly and the other people in line look surprised to see the grumpy man sound confused.

"E-Eric? Is that you?" Butters nervously stutters out.

"How the hell could you afford first class, you poor piece of shit?" You loudly ask Kenny, who right away grins at hearing your taunts.

"Man, I haven't been called poor since college. Feels refreshing. I'm actually a surgical doctor now, so it's Dr. McCormick to you, fatass." The look of smug satisfaction was clear on both the blonds' faces. Fucking faggots.

"That's bull shit, 'Dr. McCormick'," you refuse to believe that your best friend from high school not only passed high school, but med school as well, "I would've known that."

"It's not like we're on your Christmas card list, Ass Master." Kenny beings to turn his lover, Butters around, "I bet you don't know I'm married with kids either."

As he finished his sentence, you notice that the shorter man has two young sleepy infants strapped to his chest. As your jaw drops to the ground, Butters nervously strokes the children's feet.

"They're twins; Jesse and Jakob" You begin to respond, but as you're about to freak out over your childhood friend having kids himself, the two men in front of you are called to the desk. Without waving goodbye, they leave down the long hallway on their way to finding their seats. The young brunette woman asks to see your identification again, but you stand there, dumbfounded.

"Sir, I need to see your boarding pass and ID."

"Here." Cold. So very cold.

After having a rude scowl passed your way, you being the long decent down to the plane. So much has changed in the last few years. You haven't kept in touch with anyone from highschool. What's Stan and Kyle doing? Or Token and Craig? Where has the time gone? You secretly begin to hope your seat is near that of Kenny and Butters so you can ask where everyone landed in this world.

Shimmy, slide, shuffle and you're at your seat. Looking around, you are grateful that no one is sitting beside you and the gays are across from you. Sweet lady luck is on your side. As the flight attendant safety video plays, you lean over to Butters, the closer of the two, to begin your in-flight chit-chat.

"Ok, so I'm sorry for acting the way I was, but I'm just shocked to see you guys together. Honestly, I thought Kenny would be dead by now!" Butters slyly looked over at his husband.

"Actually, Eric, Kenny has died. Twice. Heart attack."

"What!" Yelling, you don't even notice the annoyed looks of the other passengers or the irritated cries of the babies strapped to Butter's chest.

"Yup," Kenny said nonchalantly, leaning forward in his seat, "After that scare, I promised Butters kids and a life together. 'Cause, you know, I'm a sucker for romance."

You scoff, trying to imagine Kenny doing anything for someone other than getting them off.

"Well, Eric," Butters begins to relax his shoulders, which is always good, "Why are you flying to New York?" What should you tell them? That you're chasing a girl from high school or that you're going for a business meeting? What would they say? Since these guys would probably know where she is, you chose to go with honesty.

"To be truthful with you guys, I'm looking for someone from high school."

"Really? Who?" Kenny seemed to be getting ready to be leaning forward throughout the rest of the flight.

"Well, to be honest, Wendy."

"That's perfect!" Butters perked up faster than Tweek on espresso, "We're going to her cottage up state! That's why we're on our way there too!" An instantaneous smirk played on your lips.

"She wouldn't be picking you guys up would she?"

"Of course she is! Oh, this is wonderful!" Your smile begins to falter; damn, was Butters a total queer now, or what.

"You don't think she'll mind seeing me?"

"Knowing her, she'll kick your ass right into baggage claim. Cause, you know, you did pretty much kill off her idea of men."

"What?" Your eyes bug out and you begin to take on similar qualities of a confused dog. "What the hell are talking about Kenny?"

"You don't remember? Damn, that was the talk of the town for, like, a year!" Kenny seemed to be angry at you, for some unseen reason.

"You broke her heart on the night of grad. Remember?"

Flashbacks began to trickle their way into your mind. Wendy and you dancing. A lot. There was lots of booze, you know that much. Bumping and grinding seemed to be the theme of the night. Everything else is a blur though. You lock eyes with Kenny, pure concern on your face.

"I can't remember anything from that night besides drinking. But, come on, that was like ten years ago. She wouldn't still be mad, would she?" Awkward glances were shared between the couple across from you. Shit, she still is.

"Well," Butters perked up a smile, hoping it'd help your state, "Let's hope that she's forgiving!"

You shrug your shoulders, not knowing what to expect now. She could explode upon seeing you, and that's never a good thing.

Leaning back, you try to remember the entire grad day you had ten years ago with your old crush. You envision her, beautiful as always, wearing a flowing light pink dress with a low cut sequined top. Her corsage was a small collection of white roses and pink orchids. You were able to convince her to be your escort, since Stan decided Bebe would be a better option, for some odd reason. You see her crying her blue eyes out hours before you were due on stage.

**"Hey, ho, why you crying?" **

**"What, like you care?" **

**"Actually," you bending down to her level, on one knee, "I care more than you'll ever know." **

**She lifted her face from her hands, puffy eyes and smudged makeup, which didn't take away from any of her beauty. **

**"Cartman?" Not another word was spoken since there was no way to. Your lips softly graced her's and as you cupped her jaw, her tears ended.**

"Cartman?" That wasn't her voice. Damnit.

"Cartman, are gunna have a snack?"

"Duh."

The flight carries on as any other flight from Miami to New York would: boring. You sit with your headphones on as Jesse and Jakob wail from their little ears popping. As you finish up the third straight episode of 'Pals' you hear the twins quiet down. Passing up this silenced time would be stupid. Leaning over, you catch Kenny's attention.

"Hey, since I know where you guys and Wendy have ended up tell me about everybody else." Kenny thinks quietly for a moment, trying to think of who to start off with.

"Well, Stan is married to Bebe, they have three kids. Umm, Kyle is in Israel becoming a Rabbi, _**big surprise**_. Token is in a pretty successful cover band in LA, I'm not sure what his situation is. I think Clyde and Craig are in New York too, but I'm not to sure. Tweek is still in South Park, running Tweak Bros Coffee. And that's all I'm sure about, man."

You take in all of this new information. Seems like you made it out on top. Sweet.

"Well, that's all I needed to know. Wake me up when we land."

"Sure thing, fatass." As you close your eyes, you see Stan and Bebe together and a very depressed Wendy as her Maid of Honor. Poor thing.

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**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews and PMs so far! If there's anything wrong or needs editing, please let me know! I write these chapters on my phone, so with the chances, something's probably wrong! Thanks!


	3. Uncomfortable Reunions

**A/N: Sooooo sorry for the long update! I never forgot about this story, but between graduating, working two jobs, and moving across the country, there was never time to update! I'm not too happy with this chapter either, so if anything feels wrong or something just review or PM me! I want to hear everything!  
**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with South Park or it's characters. The twin babies are my own characters, but that's it. Boo.**

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**There she is, beautifully radiant in her grad dress. Your breath hitches in your throat, uncontrolled heart flutters, and instant light headed-ness; she is amazing. You stand in her front hallway, awkwardly trying to fix your tie as her parents begin taking hundreds of photos of her simply walking down the stairs. Smiling, she looks down at you, away from the flashes and snaps. She's yours right now. Not Stans', not Token's, not anybody's girl but yours. As she approaches your spot in front of the door, she holds out her hand for you to take. Stepping closer and closer, she's right in front of your ever piercing gaze.**

**"Eric?"**

**Your name sounds too magical coming from her lips, it should be banned.**

"Eric?" Shit, it's Butters. Slowly you open your eyes, being greeted by a smiling face of a man instead of the woman of your dreams.

"We've landed, come on."

As you begin to stand up from your make shift bed, you hear your bones crack and crick. _Man, I'm getting old._ Shuffling towards the entrance. Standing at the entrance. Waiting for permission to go. _Weak, dude._ Finally, you're briskly walking, finding that your heart rate has sky-rocketed out of nowhere. Why are you so nervous? It's only Wendy: the girl who kicked your ass in grade 4 then kissed you on the day of grad. There's no real reason to get worked up. You see Kenny and Butters trying to catch up, but struggling what with the twins being strapped the Butter's chest still. Kenny finds his way next to you, matching in strides.

"Slow down, cowboy. Don't seem too eager now."

"I'm not eager, I just hate airports."

"Well, let's just hope that Wendy doesn't beat you down to the ground here, 'cause then we'll definitely be here longer." He brought that up again; why?

"Kenny, what the hell did I do to her that will make her want to kick the shit out of me?" He stares at you, still surprised that you can't remember.

"Let's just wait and see if she'll react. I'm sure she'll give you a re-cap."

Finally, Butters and sons catch up to yourself and Kenny. And there's the escalator to the arrival pick up. Relaxing your heart rate, you let the couple go ahead of you, not wanting Wendy to see you first. As the steps reach close to the lower level, you find yourself sweating. _Damn, I probably look fucking stupid right about now._ Quick deep breaths are your only saving grace at this moment. You need to hold yourself together, guy. In front of you Butters begins to wildly wave his arm at the gathered crowd underneath you. If he sees Wendy, does Wendy see you? Seconds later and your company is walking towards the middle of the crowd. Might as well follow suit. Before you know it, you witness an Earth shattering scowl directed right at your face.

"Eric?"

Again, much too magical, even if laced with disgust.

"Happy to see you too, Ho." Out of normal instinct, you give her a smug grin, showing her no fear. Reminding her who the top dog is. She glares you down, clenching her teeth as she directs her next question to the shorter of the two blonds'.

"What is he doing here?" You hear Butters being to stammer out his answer, trying to be gentle for fear of upsetting the babies and Wendy.

"Well, Wendy, Kenny and I.. we saw E-Eric here at the airport and, oh dear, we-"

"I came up here for business, but my friends here invited me to spend the night with them instead of the need to find a hotel in this God forsaken city. That's why I'm here, Wendeh. Now, let's grab our luggage, get a taxi and something to eat, then we'll go to bed. Okay?"

Your confidence is surprisingly steady, even you are taken aback. Wendy, on the other hand, seems to be rooted to the ground. Kenny and Butters quietly slip away to grab their bags as you and your old nemesis stare one another down. As the crowd thins out throughout the arrivals you and her stay firm and silent. Her charming scowl growing tighter and tighter, your brows more furrowed than you thought possible. As you study her eyes you notice their wetness. _Is she holding back tears?_ Impossible. Wendy would never cry for you. Just when you were almost ready to ask if she was going to break down, the couple returned with five bags and two wailing babies.

"We found your bag, Cartman," Kenny points to a deep red duffel bag, "That's all you brought?"

"I'm not expecting to stay too long," You explain while keeping constant eye contact with the raven haired woman in front of you, "I have a company back at home to attend to as well."

You notice Wendy's eyebrows begin to relax.

"What type of company?" Surprised tone and eager questions, definitely not what you expected.

"I run the History channel; president of the History channel actually." Jaws drop and eyes bug out. _Heh, that's right, assholes._

"You're the reason it's so shitty now?" Kenny basically shouts this, having mothers' of young children around you scowl at him for his loud profanity.

"Eh! I give the people what they want, so don't complain to me! Maybe you could try to give us feedback so we don't have to keep playing these damned alien shows!" You sigh loudly and with much annoyance; work should be left back at home. As you go to pinch the bridge of your nose, you see Wendy's different stance. She seems shocked and thoughtful. What could she be thinking now? You shrug your shoulders and go to pick up your bag.

"Come on, ladies," Kenny growls, ticked at your increasing comments, "I'm freakin' starved. Let's get out of here and get something to eat. I'll buy." As you being to walk towards the exit you catch Wendy's eyes; searching for something to go on. You only see a built up wall that looks like it will take a lot to break down.

_That won't be too hard. _

_I hope._


	4. Limos and Calories

**A/N: **Since I made you all wait for so long I'm going to try to add as many chapters as possible today! I have all day to do this so I'm going to keep going as fast as my fingers will let me! And please review, good or bad! Thanks!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing and I never will. Boo.**

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"**What would make you want me?" **

"**I don't want you," You look down at your feet, embarrassed to even have kissed her in the first place, "I want to _need_ you."**

**You slowly bring your eyes back to her's, the beautiful blue windows; so open and clear. You don't deserve her, you don't even deserve to be around her. As she begins to smile carefully, you start to dry her fallen tears. Its only been moments since you kissed yet you miss her lips already.**

"**Wendy," she hiccups a small gasp, almost laughing it seems, "I already do need you. I always have. It killed me to watch you with Stan for all these years. I've been the one that's wanted to sweep you off your feet, but I never got a chance to. Well, I'm not blowing this one opportunity I have."**

Well, apparently you did.

There you guys are, all six of you, crammed into a limo. Wendy decided to leave her car at home, expecting to take the boys out on the town, but then you showed up and ruined her plans. Like every time. You stare listlessly out of the window, reminiscing on your time together that day over a decade ago. _What did I do to fuck up so badly?_ Soon, the awkward silence is too much and you hear a feminine cough. You turn your head towards the pursed lips of Wendy. _Maybe that fucking bun on top of her head is too tight. I know that would piss me off too._

"Well, where should we go to eat? Kenny, Butters, do you have any special requests?" The two men look at one another thinking of what they'd like to eat. It has already been a long day and the twins are surely too tired to stay up for much longer. Butters grins up at Wendy, looking hopefully around the limo at everyone.

"Why not something quick, like fast food? I think the twins are getting restless and I know I'm pretty tired myself." Your mood quickly turns around. _I haven't had fast food in years. Probably not the best thing for me right now, but fuck it._

"I'm down for a Big Mac." You frown at Kenny, who snorted loudly while taking Jesse out of his side of the chest carrier.

"I'm sure you are, Fatass."

"Oy! I haven't had any fast food in two years, thank you very much!"

"I can tell."

You look over at the slim women across from you. Did she just compliment you? She won't look you in the eyes, but you can see a lingering smirk on her lips. You stare openly at her, holding nothing back. She has barely aged at all throughout all these years. Her hair is still a solid shining black and seems to still have a lot of length to it. Being in the closed off city of New York has kept her skin to a creamy white while you're a golden brown from the Miami sun. You can tell from her outfit that she is at least a professional woman, what with her dark gray dress pants and stylish coat. Seems expensive too, maybe Armani? You snap out of your Wendy trace from her own open staring. She's sizing you up, ready to fight if the need comes.

"Thanks. I worked hard for this." You aren't sure if you meant for that to sound as if there's a double meaning, so you'll let it rest on top of her head.

Soon your company and you find a quiet McDonald's "restaurant" in under five minutes. Everyone piles out of the black limo, bellies rumbling from exhaustion and plain hunger. Once again, you're leading the pack inside and you grab for your wallet, remembering that you said you would pay for everyone. There's no line up to the counter as you stride over to begin ordering.

"Hello, sir, welcome to McDonald's, what can I get for you?" says the pimple faced teenager.

"I'll have two double Big Macs, two crispy chicken ranch snack wraps, an apple pie, and a regular Coke."

"Holy shit, Cartman!" Kenny, of course, continues to bug you for your weight. He'll never let it down.

"I may have lost all that weight, but I still have a large appetite, asshole." As you glare at the skinny blonde man Wendy glides over to the cash register.

"Hello there, I'll have three quarter pounders with bacon on all of them, a large fry, two apple pies, one snack grilled ranch snack wrap, and a large Sprite, please." She looks over at the the three men and smiles softly to herself. _I have a challenge, huh?_

"Well then, is that everything?" The teen looks over at the two blonds' waiting for them to order as well.

"We'll have two cheese burgers and regular fries." Kenny mumbles out quickly.

"And one large Root Beer, please." Butters grins to his husband, knowing that Root Beer was his vice.

"Okay, altogether your total comes to $28.95" You pull out your Visa to pay for this inexpensive meal, but Wendy has already positioned herself in front of you.

"On American Express." Already smirking, she turns to you, looking victorious. _You are a sneaky bitch, Ho._

As your company waits for all the food to be prepared, you slink into the bathroom. You turn the faucet to hot and start to scrub at your paws. _What did I do? She obviously still has a grudge, but it seems as though she's flirting with me. Fucking bitches are too confusing. I feel like I'm back in high school. I'm going to need to sit her down and talk to her._

You walk over to the table they decided to sit down at and begin to dig into your carbilicious meal. As you munch and chew your first Big Mac you're aware that Wendy is staring at you once more. You aren't sure if it's in anger or if in silent wondering, but it's hot either way. Her simple yet effective eye shadow is elegant in contrast to her plum lips. As she gently nibbles at her over salted french fries your heart flutters hard in your chest. _This bitch is going to drive me crazy. _ You smile to yourself.

_I love going crazy._


	5. Nostalgic Piss Offs

**A/N: **Okay! Another chapter but no reviews? They help me write and it'd be awesome if you'd leave one :)

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but some Ikea furniture and my phone. Boo.**

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**Her lips are soft and wet, smashed against your own. You're cradling the back of her head carefully, making sure not to mess up her hair. Her small hands pressed to your broad chest where she must feel your heart beating too fast to not be worrisome. In this moment, everything is perfect, even Wendy's smudged make up and your passionate moans. You break apart from her lips to simply gaze into her eyes. She grins at you with something twinkling in her eyes.**

"**Eric," even hearing her say your name drives you wild, "I think I might be falling in lo-"**

"**Wendy?"**

"**Yes, Eric?"**

"**We're going to be late. Let's go fix you up and make sure you're the only thing on that stage that's as beautiful as the stars in the sky."**

When did you lose that suave attitude? When did you fuck everything up? When did you realize that Wendy was the only thing in your life that really mattered since you could never get anything as amazing as her? Not even your big house or your comfy career. Too long ago.

Once everyone finished eating and cleaned up their grease covered mouths, you all piled back into the limo. The twins both cradled in the arms of their fathers and you sitting alone in your corner, cold and full. The air isn't as awkward, but no one is talking besides Butter's constant cooing over his precious baby in his arms. You can't seem to tell if they are adopted children or if one of the two were a sperm donor. Maybe that's a topic that could be mulled over?

"So, which one is the supplier of the magic juice for those two or did you guys take them?" You notice Kenny scowl at you over the rudeness of your question and Butters stare starry eyed at some distant memory.

"Actually, Eric, I was the sperm donor and Kenny's sister Karen carried them for us." He replied, smiling at you with only happiness.

"Really? How did you convince her to be pregnant with children she doesn't even get to raise?" Wendy was the person who asked this time, seeming to be interested herself.

"Well, since she lives with us and has been for the last four years, she does get to help in their upbringing. With having her as the mother that way these two little guys are both of ours in a way and they still have a mother type role in their lives." Kenny nodded, agreeing with what Butters finished explaining. He slowly stroked the top of Jesse's head with such a deep love that it made a very small portion of you twitch in envy. At 29 years old, you often wonder what it would be like to have a little you running around to look after. Not that you _want_ kids, just that it's what everyone does and that way, you could have something to look forward to at the end of every payday. Someone to spend your money on, someone to fill one of your many rooms in your home, someone to love you.

Once again the limo is silent. You look out the window to the lit up city speed by your eyes and wonder where you're being taken to.

"Where are we going, Ho?" You look over at Wendy, looking down at her phone, probably checking her e-mails. She doesn't even glance up at you, only furrowing her eyebrows even more.

"My home. We're spending the night there then leaving tomorrow morning for my cottage. I suppose you're coming right, since you decided to come for the ride?" She looked up quickly from her phone at you waiting for an answer. You didn't realize that you forced yourself to come, but that's what you wanted, right? To be able to spend some time with Wendy?

"Duh, of course I'm coming. Butters invited me." You always have to throw someone under the bus, don't you?

"Well, there's room for you. Just don't expect me to give you an easy time." With that she returned her gaze down at her phone, more interested in what was on the brightened screen than what you had to retort with. _Whatever, I'll make you give me an easy time._

Within the next twenty minutes you notice that the lights have died down and the amount of cars have lessened on the road. You see more trees and less billboards. It's a very nice area, one that only so many people can live in. The limo begins to slow to a creeping crawl up a windy drive way. Through the tinted windows you see lamps dotting the sides of the small road. Up ahead is a _very_ generous sized home. At least two stories with a basement, you find yourself drooling over this dark Victorian style house. _Okay, so she has money. Good for her._ The long car comes to a stop and the driver opens the door for you six to pour out from.

"Thank you very much, Ben. I'll see you again when I come back from up state, yes?"

"Of course, Ms. Testaburger. I hope you enjoy yourself this weekend."

"And you too! Good night."

Ben tried to help with taking your bags out of the trunk, but you waved him away. Kenny and yourself brought in all of the luggage while Wendy helped Butters with taking one of the boys. Before you could reach for the door handle, the large oak door was opened from the inside and you were greeted with a warm smile from another young man.

"Hello, sir. Are you one of Ms. Testaburger's friends for the weekend?" His smile makes you scowl and you can tell he'll be a presence that you will _not_ enjoy.

"Yes, I sure as hell am."

"Let me show you where to put your bags. Do you know which guest room you'll be staying in?"

"No, I-"

"Thank you, James, but I'll show everyone where they're going." Wendy says with a very confident presence. She cuts out in front of you to make her way up the very wide stairs.

"Of course, Ms. Testaburger. Shall I get anyone anything to drink while you get adjusted?"

"I'll have a green tea, please?" Butters politely asks while he looks over at Kenny to see what he'd like.

"I'll have a scotch on the rocks."

"And for yourself, sir?" James looks over at you, waiting for your request. You instead glance over at Wendy, asking the homeowner rather than her help.

"What's your best red wine in this place, Ho?" She glares, pissed that you keep insisting on calling her the same name that you have been since grade 4.

"I have a Cabernet Sauvignon that I just bought this week. I haven't tried it yet, but I've heard it's quiet rich." She continues up the stairs, expecting the three of you to follow. You look back over at the waiting James.

"I'll have that." He nods at your request, making his way to the kitchen to prepare all of the drinks. You start to climb the stairs with three bags in your arms rather than a baby and follow Wendy up with the two other men behind you. She takes a left and stops in front of the first door.

"This is Kenny and Butter's room," she says while extending her free arm to the door, "make yourselves at home." You drop two of the bags down in front of the door and continue to walk with Wendy carrying your one piece of luggage. Looking around, you see lots of different art adorning the walls, but no pictures of Wendy with anyone. _Is she a hermit or something? _As you're walking thinking to yourself, Wendy has stopped to the second last door.

"This is your room. Don't make a mess." She is emotionless in her stoic stare. You humph in her face and enter your overnight room.

Once entering you are taken aback at it's size. _This is a guest room?! Holy shit!_ The size alone would be that of a master bedroom and the bed which sat in the middle was fit for a king. The deep red walls were also decorated with modern art pieces like that of the hallway. You now are in full swing envy; Wendy must be rolling in the dough to afford beautiful art, a large home, and a cottage. You place your bag beside the dark dresser and decide to change into something much more comfortable than this suit. A dark pair of jeans and a black long sleeved shirt seemed casual enough for an evening drink.

You decided to make your way back downstairs to receive that glass of wine James was to get you. Slowly, you make your down while taking in Wendy's home. Who would have thought that you'd end up here? From not talking to anyone from high school for years to spending the weekend with three of them. You descend the stairs and find your way into the living room. It's void of life, but your glass of wine sits beside a very welcoming leather armchair that you swear has your name on it. Sitting down, you wait for company to join you. Sipping slowly, you pan the room enjoying the atmosphere around you. More art and quite the fireplace are mostly the eye catchers. Getting up, you find yourself looking over at the large bookcase that sits beside the fireplace. Finally, you've found some actual photographs. There's a large frame containing many small pictures of someone's wedding; Stan and Bebe's. It's mostly Bebe and Wendy smiling together or Bebe being held lovingly by Stan in front of a large tree.

"The wedding was four years ago, after their first kid was born." You jump, surprised by the soft voice behind you. Turning around, you see Wendy has also changed her outfit for a pair of sweat pants and a large woolen sweater. She picks up the other glass of wine and sips from it. She glides over to you and picks up on the picture frames. Looking down, she sighs in obvious nostalgia over the photo. You look over her shoulder to see it's a picture of the wedding party.

"I was the Maid of Honor. It was at my cottage up state and I had everyone stay there. Bebe and Stan aren't particularly well off and I didn't want them to worry about the costs of having somewhere to have their wedding." She puts the frame down and goes to sit down. You take your seat back in the arm chair. "I arranged the hair and make-up for her and all the Bridesmaids. I was so happy for her that day." You nod, taking another sip of wine.

"You wanted to marry Stan." You spill it out as a comment, not a question. Wendy didn't even blink, she expected you to say that.

"Back when I was in high school, yes. But someone changed that." She looks up at you, eyes burning with sadness and hate, such a terrifying combination. You sip at your wine, mulling over what to say next. Should you keep up your wall of sarcasm or be honest?

"Kenny and Butters keep telling me I fucked up all those years ago. I can't remember what I did to you and I don't think I meant to do anything. Tell me what I did, because all I remember is telling you how I felt after keeping it a secret for so long." Her face twists from sadness to complete anger, all within ten milliseconds. She stands up in a fast swing and points her finger angrily in your face.

"You don't _remember_?! You don't remember taking my _virginity_ that night and laughing in my face?! You don't remember me crying in your bed for _hours_ while you went out drinking with Stan?! Do you remember me telling you that I loved you? Do you remember saying it back to me? Do you remember kicking me out of your bed in the morning and not answering any of my calls that whole day? You fucking asshole!" She slaps you across the face with a sting of long buried pain behind it. Once her palm connected against your cheek, you could only sit there, face down, eyes stinging with shame.

"Wendy, I-"

"No, Eric! I don't want your apologizes or your insults! I don't know why I said I'd let you come into my home and then have you say you don't even remember hurting me all those years ago!" She sighs, sitting back down, looking more tired and aged than she had a minute ago. "I loved you. I didn't tell you that I loved you for _so_ long. You were the only one who could challenge me and win. You were kind of like a fire for me." She drops her head to look down at her wine glass, then downs the rest in one gulp. You stand from your chair in front of her, while she continues to look down at her feet.

"Wendy. I loved you too. I don't know what made me do that all those years ago. Maybe it was having Stan tell me that you only agreed to be my escort as a last resort, or maybe it was because I was terrified that you were going to do the same thing to me that I did to you. Wendy," You bend down to her eye level, just like you did all those years ago, while she was crying, "I still love you. I always did. You don't have to accept my apology, you don't have to accept me into your home. You were my fire back then. You still are." Then, just like on that day, you grab her chin carefully and tenderly kiss her. At first, she responds back, softly like a memory being replayed, but then rips away, slapping you once again.

"No! Not again! I'm not going to be played again! Fuck you, Cartman!"

With that, she storms away, up the stairs.

_I'm going to need another glass of wine._


End file.
